NaPoWriMo 26

Conversations with the Mirror

“One size is sad, it says,” meaning
it looks upon the body as a city in ruin.
How much easier it would be
to move her flesh where it is needed,
to make the body grow or shrink
or disappear?

How often it spoke about her mood
and deepened it. She flickers before the mirror
like a solitary flame, yet turns away
from the soft hues of the physical.
She glows for no one brilliantly
against midnight.

Once it told her bones she was ordinary,
unstructured—no more light and shade.
How often has she come to it
as if it was a wailing wall.
She looks for absolution
when no one else is watching.